


Of Notecards and Bad Pickup Lines

by Weasleychick32



Series: Of Pick-Up Lines Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Dean is a Little Shit, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasleychick32/pseuds/Weasleychick32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He drops the cards and they flutter down onto the concrete and over Dean’s boots.</p><p>“Fuck,” the guy says, arms heavy at his sides now and eyes squeezed shut tight. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. You’re- you’re just so pretty. I’m sorry.”</p><p>He won’t look at Dean at all now and instead abruptly drops to kneel on the ground, frantically scooping up the cards with his chin practically on his chest.</p><p>“Did you just call me pretty?” Dean asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Notecards and Bad Pickup Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post:
> 
> http://weasleychick32.tumblr.com/post/117817718049/arkhams-margaritina-arkhams-hey-so-uhh

It happens when Dean is walking home from the library. Yeah, not Dean’s usual scene, but his brother needed him to return some books that were due back today and the nerd couldn’t do it himself because he has class and then a date tonight with a hot girl named Jess. So Dean graciously (after much teasing and poking fun) agreed to return the books (in exchange for Dean getting to pick the movie on their next movie night. What? He ain’t a saint and Sammy always picks those weird documentaries and foreign films).

The day seems nice enough and the library is only a few blocks from their apartment so Dean decides to go ahead and walk. About halfway there he really starts to regret his choice. The sun, while nice to look at from the other side of a window, is _hot_. And Dean might have put on too many layers. Again. Finally, he makes it to the library, dumps the books in the book return slot, and then stops.

Should he go in and take advantage of the air conditioning? Or should he hurry home and strip off some of his layers in his own air conditioning. The decision is made the second Dean considers that if he goes inside the library to cool off, not only will he have to pretend he’s interested in the geek utopia, but then he’ll have to come back outside and get hot all over again. He starts walking home.

He’s halfway home and working up a sweat when someone walks up to him and stops right in front of him. Dean has to stop abruptly to keep from running the guy over and with a dirty look he starts to walk around him, but then the guy’s eyes dart up and meet Dean’s for a brief second before going back down to his shoes, but that’s all it takes for Dean to decide he’s worth his time. Even if he is wearing a big old trench coat in June. And is twitching and fidgeting like he’s tripping on something.

Okay, so maybe Dean is just a sucker for big blue eyes, but you won’t ever hear him admit it.

Dean waits patiently for the man to say… whatever he stopped Dean to say. Because, hell, the dude is _hot_. He has dark hair that sticks up every which way like he just rolled out of bed and he’s almost as tall as Dean, although less bulky, instead with a lean strong looking frame. And _fuck_ , his eyes. His eyes are blue like the sky on a sunlit summer afternoon. Dean glances at the sky and frowns. It’s not quite right. Maybe blue like the Caribbean ocean how you see it in photographs. Or like this one drink a girl bought for Dean once. An electric something or other. The drink was shit, but that blue... in someone’s face? Hot as hell.

So yeah. Dean is waiting very patiently.

“I um…”

The guy swallows nervously, not quite able to look Dean in the eyes. Dean smiles, all soothing and pleasant like he so rarely is and he wills those blue eyes to look up into his so he can take them in once again in all of their splendor. Unfortunately, the message isn’t received because the guy is still looking down at his hands. Dean has been so preoccupied with trying to get a good look at that particular shade of blue that it takes him until that moment to notice what’s in the guy’s hands. Notecards. Dean’s brow crinkles as the guy fidgets with the plain white cards and then takes a deep breath before looking up and those sweet Mediterranean peepers finally meet Dean’s curious gaze.

“Hey. So, umm…” the guy glances down at his cards and then back up at Dean’s chin, “Did you fall, umm, out of heaven because- shit.”

He drops the cards and they flutter down onto the concrete and over Dean’s boots.

“Fuck,” the guy says, arms heavy at his sides now and eyes squeezed shut tight. “ _Fuck_. I’m so sorry. You’re- you’re just so pretty. I’m sorry.”

He won’t look at Dean at all now and instead abruptly drops to kneel on the ground, frantically scooping up the cards with his chin practically on his chest.

“Did you just call me pretty?” Dean asks.

It’s a weird ass thing to say to a dude, but that doesn’t stop the huge grin from slowly creeping across Dean’s face. Weird, but adorable.

“I umm,” the guy starts to stutter, but Dean figures he should help the guy out a bit and squats down.

“And was that supposed to be a pickup line?” Dean asks and hands him a few cards, including one that somehow ended up under his boot and now has a large, dusty black boot print across the face of it.

“It uh, yes. I’m sorry. I’ll just-”

Dean holds out the last of the notecards, but doesn’t release them when the guy grabs the other end.

“Because if it was then I’ll fuck you right on this spot,” Dean says and winks when the guy finally looks him in the face, jaw slack, eyes wide, and a distinct pink hue creeping steadily from beneath his collar and up his neck.

Notecard guy rockets upright, ripping the cards from Dean’s relaxed hold and nearly giving Dean a nasty paper cut. He starts shuffling his cards into something resembling a pile and then flips through them, blue eyes darting across the carefully printed letters desperately. Dean stretches back into a standing position and watches, unable to keep the slight smile off his face.

“I umm… don’t have a card for… this situation.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs and Notecard guy snaps his head up and stares, eyes wide and blue blue blue.

“Well then, I guess if it’s not in the cards it’s not meant to be,” Dean says with a theatric sigh.

He thought it was obvious that he was teasing, but the Notecard guy starts looking panicked again, not that he’s really stopped. Dean figures he should keep talking and head off whatever kind of episode the guy is about to have.

“What _is_ in the cards then? A drink? Dinner? Movie? Whatever it is, I’m game.”

“You are?” Notecard guy asks, staring.

“Sure, why not,” Dean says with an easy shrug and another grin. “I already like you and that’s more than I can say about a lot of people that I’ve, uh, you know, been with. So yeah. Why not?”

“Oh,” Notecard guy says and just keeps staring.

Dean turns a pointed look to the notecards now being crushed to death in the man’s grip.

“So? What’s it gonna be? Or if you want I can pick.”

“Oh! Right. Just one second,” he says, and starts flipping through the cards so quickly that Dean can’t be sure that he’s even reading them.

“Here, umm, here it is.” He clears his throat. “So, uh... you, me, coffee. Six o'clock, uh, sugar.”

Dean can’t help it. He starts to snicker and the corners of his lips just won’t stay down. Notecard guy sighs and frowns at the white rectangles as though they are a child that has greatly disappointed him.

“You didn’t write those. Did you?” Dean asks, biting his traitorous lip.

Notecard guy shakes his head.

“No. My brother did. And I think my cousin helped,” he sighs again and frowns deeply at the cards, a line appearing between his eyebrows. “Even _I_ can tell these are terrible.”

“Do you mind?” Dean asks, holding out a hand.

Notecard guy turns his frown to Dean’s outstretched palm and then back to the notecards. He exhales slowly.

“I suppose they couldn’t possibly do any more damage.”

Dean grins and accepts the cards, scanning each one. He bites his lips together to hold in his laughter, but about the fourth one in he can’t keep it up.

“Oh man. These are awful. I think they were messing with you man.”

The guy frowns again and then his head dips until he’s looking down at his shoes- yellow Converse, Dean notices.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. They are rather fond of practical jokes,” he mumbles.

“Hey,” Dean taps Notecard guy's bicep gently with his handful of cards. He looks up, eyes uncertain and maybe a bit wary. “Jokes on them this time though, right? I mean, you got a date out of it.”

“I did?” the guy asks.

Dean’s lips twitch into an amused grin.

“Yeah dude. Haven’t you been paying attention? We’re getting coffee at six. But do we really have to wait until six? I mean, I don’t have anything going on so if you’re free we could just go now. If that’s cool with you.”

“Oh,” the guy says, blinking slowly. “Oh, I mean yes. Of course. I’m free. It’s, umm, cool with me.”

Dean smiles again, all warm and mushy and gross. Like melted ice cream on sunwarmed pavement in July. Bleh.

“Okay. Did you have someplace in mind?” Dean asks, getting the feeling that he’s really going to have to hold this guy’s hand throughout the whole date… Which, okay, he wouldn’t be totally opposed to, in the figurative sense or literal for that matter.

“Oh. I was thinking Slice of Heaven if that’s alright,” he offers hopefully.

“No shit? I go there all the time! They have _the best_ pie. The owner’s kind of a dick, but his pie is worth it,” Dean gushes.

Notecard guy snorts a little and looks back down at his toes, scuffing them a bit on the sidewalk.

“Yeah. The kind of a dick that gives his brother bad pickup lines,” he murmurs.

Dean’s jaw drops and he laughs.

“Are you serious? _Gabe_ is your brother?!” Dean positively cackles at the new information.

“Unfortunately,” Notecard guy sighs.

“No, no. Dude. This is perfect,” Dean grabs the guy’s elbow so he’ll look up at him and maybe catch on to this excitement. “Your brother has a huge pathetic big gay crush on _my_ brother.”

“Sam is your brother?” the guys asks, face crinkling as he squints thoughtfully.

“You know Sam?”

“Not personally, but Gabriel never shuts up about him,” the guys says with an eye roll so heavy the Earth quivers on its axis.

“Is that so.” Dean quirks a smirk. “In that case, would you, kind Sir Knight, care to endeavor on a quest to bring about ruin to your brother eldest?” Dean asks, eyebrows wiggling.

Notecard guy laughs and it’s the best sound Dean’s ever heard; he's all gums and crinkles framing those blue eyes and Dean falls, just a bit.

“I accept,” is all he says and Dean beams.

“Awesome. First, we have a date to go rub in his face,” Dean says.

The guy smiles, smaller this time, just a small curl of his lips really, but it’s just as good.

“Okay.”

That’s when Dean realizes he’s still holding the guy’s elbow and that he still doesn’t know the guy’s name. Dean releases his elbow and instead holds out a hand.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” he says.

Notecard guy considers his hand only for a moment before he takes it and pumps it twice.

“Castiel,” he responds.

“Castiel,” Dean repeats carefully, the name tickling something in the depths of his memory.

They’re still clasping hands and Dean looks down at them, hesitating, deliberating. Castiel notices the look and sheepishly withdraws his hand, instead bringing it up to run through his already out of control hair and peeks up at Dean through his eyelashes. It’s the look that decides it for Dean really.

He reaches forward and runs his knuckle across the back of Castiel’s free hand. Castiel sucks in a sharp breath, just barely noticeable, but there. Dean threads his fingers between Castiel’s and watches his face for his reaction.

He’s pink again, but he smiles, another of those minuscule curves, so Dean smiles back. It’s not the cocky, self-assured smile he normally wears. It’s softer. More genuine.

Dean clears his throat.

“Shall we?”

“Yes.”

They set off down the sidewalk, hand in hand. They don’t speak, but Dean catches Castiel watching him shyly from the corner of his eye and a few times he turns and meets the stares with a smile. Each time Castiel turns away, caught, but each time it’s with another smile. Dean counts it a win and tucks the stack of notecards into his jacket pocket.

They arrive at the bakery and Gabe’s double take when he sees Dean hold the door open for Castiel and then retake his hand as soon as they’re both in the building is glorious.

“Hey Gabe! Guess who got a hot date?” Dean chirps for the whole room to hear.

Castiel blushes again and looks down at the floor, but he’s biting his bottom lip and trying to cover up a smile.

“You?” Gabriel says, all questions and shock.

“Yep! Craziest thing. Cas here walked up to me and it was like the stars aligned, you know?” Dean will never ever in a trillion years _ever_ admit to how true that statement is.

“Really?” Gabriel says weakly, staring at Castiel. Castiel is looking anywhere but at his brother, but that’s okay. Dean’s got this.

“Mhmm. We’ve already got some pretty big plans, too,” Dean whispers loudly across the counter and follows it up with a wink.

“Really?” Gabriel says again, only this time it’s less airy with surprise and more leaden with trepidation.

“Really.” Dean glances around the mostly empty shop and leans further across the counter. “We’re going to head back my place tonight and you know,” Dean makes an obscene hand motion that has Gabriel’s eyes turning flat and vaguely homicidal. Dean feels Castiel blanch through the hand still clenched in his and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “And then, I’m thinking a regular courthouse marriage. Of course, that’s not legal in Kansas so we’ll have to move. I’m thinking Iowa. Keep it simple and familiar with the midwest you know? But Cas here’s got his heart set on the East coast. One of the Carolinas maybe. We’re still talking about it. I just want him to be happy.”

Gabriel’s eyes are narrowed with suspicion now. Dean holds back a snicker and turns to shoot a grin at Castiel. Castiel must feel his gaze or something because he looks up just as Dean looks over and their eyes lock. Dean’s grin softens into from jovial to something else and Castiel’s lips curl in response.

Gabriel clears his throat after a long moment. Dean blinks and turns away from Castiel and back to his brother, his brother who now looks ever so slightly worried.

“Cassie? Really?” he asks.

Dean’s brain stutters on the nickname. Gabriel has been talking Dean’s ear off about _Cassie_ for months now. Dean always assumed Cassie was Gabriel’s _sister_.

Castiel clears his throat and lifts his head to lock eyes with Gabriel.

“You’ve been encouraging me to ‘get a life’ outside of work for months now. Well, I found one,” he says, and even quirks his eyebrow a bit for emphasis.

Gabriel looks gobsmacked. Dean has never been more proud of a person he only met 10 minutes ago. He beams at Castiel and is rewarded with a small self-conscious smile in return.

“So anyway, what do you want to drink, Cas? I’m buying,” Dean says, digging his wallet out of the back pocket of his old and worn in jeans.

“But I asked you here,” Castiel says, frowning again.

Dean suppresses a snort. Technically, he supposes Cas did the asking, but in actuality is was more of a team effort.

“And I feel like treating you,” Dean says instead of any of that. “You can get the next one.”

And just like that Cas goes pink again and Dean wins the argument. Gabriel takes their orders seemingly on autopilot and Dean wants it marked down for prosperity that on this day he, Dean Winchester, rendered one Gabriel Novak, speechless.

“Why don’t you go pick a table,” Dean suggests when he notices Gabriel is starting to come back out of his state of shock; the way he’s shooting death glares at Dean is a bit of a giveaway. “I got these.”

Castiel darts a quick glance at Gabriel and then brings his gaze back to lock onto Dean’s.

“If you’re sure…”

“Positive. It’ll only be a minute,” Dean assures him.

Castiel’s lips tug down into a frown.

“Alright,” he agrees, the words dragged from between his lips reluctantly. Dean squeezes his hand and then releases it, immediately missing the warmth of it, despite the fact that his palm is now all sweaty. Castiel turns away and strides off to a booth in the far corner. Dean watches him go for a moment and then turns and comes face to face with a seething Gabe behind the counter.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” Gabriel hisses and thunks Dean’s coffee on the counter hard enough for it to slosh over the brim of the ceramic mug.

“What’s wrong Gabe? I thought you wanted me to get with _Cassie_ ,” Dean says, not bothering to conceal his smirk.

“Not like this! Maybe get him out of the house once and a while. But not… not… not fucking _bed him and wed him_! I thought you were straight!”

Dean can’t help it. He laughs.

“Dude, I’m bi. But seriously, if you don’t want people to fuck your brother then don’t write him up notecards with terrible pickup lines on them,” he says.

Gabriel opens his mouth and then snaps it shut as he narrows his eyes.

“You two are fucking with me,” he declares with the air of a man hit with a startling epiphany.

“We sure are,” Dean confirms, smug as hell.

Gabriel opens his mouth angrily and then clenches his jaw and glares so hard that Dean thinks he might burst a blood vessel. Without another word he turns and stomps off toward the swinging door that leads to the kitchen. Dean would like it marked for prosperity that this is twice now in a single day that he, Dean Winchester, has struck Gabriel Novak speechless.

“Bring out some pie!” Dean yells after him and then adds on as a second thought, “If you spit in it I’ll burn down your shop! Don’t think I won’t! You know how I get over pie!”

Gabriel flips him off and disappears into the kitchen. Dean counts it a win. He plucks up the pair of coffees and carries them back to Castiel. They smile at each other as Dean nears and at the last second Dean decides to slide into the same side of the booth as Castiel, rather than across from him. Castiel’s eyes widen, but he scoots over to make room and gets this pleased little grin so Dean figures he’s doing okay.

More than okay.

He’s awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah hem. Yeah so there's that. Not sure if I'll just leave it as is or maybe add another chapter or two... Anyway, hope you liked it!
> 
> Edit: Well it's not another chapter or two... it's an entire sequel. BUT it's a sabriel fic so I hope you like those.
> 
> A special shout out to commenters fictionalguysarethebest and Sensula for sparking the inspiration... it's only been two years. Anyway, YOU TWO ROCK!!! I hope your little sabriel shipping hearts enjoy the sequel <3


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